Raise A Glass To Freedom
by KittyKat121213
Summary: There are a lot of things in America that Alexander Hamilton was not prepared for, including cute, rebellious Southern boys, and all the troubles they bring. Lams. In progress. I don't own anything, Lin-Manuel Miranda does, and he's awesome.


"George? Are you listening?".

"Hmm? Sorry, today's been crazy.". George looked up at his wife. She had the puppy dog eyes on. She wanted something,

"Well, the social worker called today, and-".

"No more kids!".

"Hear me out.". Oh no. That was her no nonsense voice. He might be a decorated war vet and local politician, but he knew better than to upset Martha.

"Okay. I'm just saying we already have our hands full with Gilbert.".

"Remember the hurricane in Nevis in the Caribbean a few months ago?". He nodded. It had been all over the news. "He's a survivor of that. No family whatsoever. Terribly bright, people raised money to send him here.".

"How old is he?".

"Twelve, like Gilbert. It'll only be for a few weeks, unless you get too attached. He's got nowhere else to go.".

"Well... I suppose we'd better get the spare room ready.".

The airport was loud and busy. That was Alex's first impression of America. Loud. Busy. Colourful. Confusing.

The air hostess guided him to a woman with a too-dark tan and too-blonde hair. He swallowed nervously and tried out a smile. She smiled back, wide, toothy, bright, and extended her hand.

"Hi! I'm Amanda, your social worker. I'll take you to your temporary foster family.".

He nodded and followed her. She led him down a corridor to a family – a tall, dark-skinned man, a petite woman with long braids and a tall boy with huge, puffy hair. Amanda was talking to them. About him, Alex thought.

What was he thinking? He could never make it here, in America. That was for people who had it all. He was a small, skinny kid – twelve years old with no family. He couldn't stay with these people. They were a unit. He knew he'd never be one of them.

"Hi.". Alex jumped. It was the tall boy with the poofy hair. He spoke with a heavy French accent.

"Uh... Hey.".

"I've always wanted a brother.".

"Is that why they're looking after me?". The kid looked like a guy who had everything. Of course the couple would get him a brother if he wanted one.

"Of course not! They're my foster parents too. My stepdad didn't want me around so Mama sent me to school here. They love kids, they just prefer to help ones like us than make their own.".

Alex looked up. He detected no dishonesty in the boy's dark eyes.

"What's your name?".

"Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Mortier, Marquais de Lafayette. Everyone calls me Laf. Except for those two," he gestured to the couple talking to Amanda, "they call me Gilbert. Yourself?".

"Alexander Hamilton."

"Alexander!" Amanda yelled so loud that half the people in the coffee shop turned round to look at her. He stood and walked over to her. The woman with the braids took his hand.

"Alexander. I know this is pretty confusing for you. My name is Martha Washington, and this is my husband George. We'll be your foster parents. Now, if Amanda here agrees, I guess we'll head home.".

"Alexander, why don't you introduce yourself?".

"Hi, I'm Alex. My dad walked out years ago. My mom died of the flu about eight months ago. They gave me to my cousin to look after but I guess I'm really awful because he killed himself. Pretty much everyone else I knew died in the hurricane.". He gave them the biggest smile he could muster, after seeing Amanda's horrified expression.

The Washingtons glanced at each other with a slight look of horror, but regained their composure quickly and returned the smile.

Amanda did agree then, and so before he knew it, Alex was in the Washington's car with Laf next to him. They pulled up outside a nice house in an area Laf said was called Brooklyn.

He couldn't believe it. Everything was so shiny and modern, from the front door to the kitchen to the knob on the door of the room they said was his.

The bed was huge. Right in the middle of the room and covered in soft white bedding. There was a wooden desk, beneath a window, on one side, and a matching wardrobe and cabinet on the other.

"You like it?".

"I love it.".

 **Hello! Welcome to my new story! If you're new, I'm Kitty (on here at least!) and I am absolutely awful at updating, so don't expect me to stick to a schedule. Also, I apologise in advance for any offense caused by the opinions of the characters. They'll have similar personalities to the versions from** ** _The Trouble With College,_** **because I'm not particularly creative.**

 **Okay, so I'll be doing a Question Of The Chapter on here as well. It's partly to get to know my readers and partly because you guys review more when I do this.**

 **QOTC: Who's your favourite Hamilton character?**

 **AOTC: Angelica. She's always featured in things I write, whether it's Lams or... something else. It's usually Lams.**

 **Thank you for reading!**

 **Kitty :)**


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